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Here Narcissus, tired
of hunting and the heated noon, lay down,
attracted by the peaceful solitudes
595 and by the glassy spring. There as he stooped
to quench his thirst another thirst increased.
While he is drinking he beholds himself
reflected in the mirrored pool--and loves;
loves an imagined body which contains
600 no substance, for he deems the mirrored shade
a thing of life to love. He cannot move,
for so he marvels at himself, and lies
with countenance unchanged, as if indeed
a statue carved of Parian marble.
- (Ovid - The Metamorphoses. Narcissus and Echo.)
Kate really doesn't make it a habit of biting off more than she can chew (well… anymore), but when it's between her, or her teammates' lives? She'll always put herself on the line against the villain(s) of the week, rather than throw them to the wolves.
Which means playing the role of the clean-up crew, unfortunately, while somewhere near the Baxter Building the Fantastic Four are pulled away for a separate catastrophe. So, the teams are split. Womp Womp.
But this.
This is something straight out of a horror movie. As half-baked humans descending the stairs like Monstro Elisasue from the Substance—no, like that fucked up newborn from Alien: Resurrection.
Archers make do with a stick and a string from the Paleolithic Era, and she thwacks them with her compound bow, yanking arrows out of the corpses when she can. "Back, woman! Back I said!"
All she gets in turn is whines and groans that sound so young and terrified, like a choir of mutilated children. Project Communion all over again. Fuck. Fuck. Shove that away, somewhere you can't find it.
She really needs a damn drink.
"Sorry, I'm." Usually, these guys are man-eating freaks that nip at her ankles, but they seem to just want to subdue her for some reason, smothering her. No, hugging her to death. "I'm so sorry."
She throws a hand over her shoulder and feels the last two arrows brush against her index and middle fingers. So she does what any respectable human does when facing The Horrors.
To quote her number one movie on Letterboxd. Run, bitch, run!
As she's about to reach the top of the stairwell and the top floor, she feels a gooey, stray hand thwack the back of her ankle, and her head slams hard into the floor. She lies there on the concrete stairs for a good second and tries to get her bearings, barely scrambling up in time to avoid the head that smacked down right where she was with a splat; and pitiful cry, what the fuck? Wiping at the blood spilling out of her nose, she quickly shoots the blob, putting it out of its misery, and scampers away as she spots more coming up, shutting the metal door behind her.
One arrow left. One shot, gotta make it count.
Then a shrill static fills her head, and a message comes through as she pushes everything available against the door, but still the creatures bang incessantly against it, budging it open slightly, but not enough to crawl through.
We're on our way, Kate, just gotta handle it down here first! A minute tops!
Billy. Oh, sweet Billy. What sweet psychic waves to her brain.
Heard.
Is she a line cook? Who says heard anymore? Ugh, never mind. Cavalry is on its way; it's time to work her magic.
So, she kicks open the office door, bow at the ready as she comes face to face with The Mad Thinker. What an original moniker.
"I just knew you would be the first to arrive. Predictable." And so pretentious too. Great.
No time for small talk.
Kate lets the arrow fly once she's got a clear shot at him, but it only nicks his ear as her feet leave the ground and she flies back, unable to dodge the metal that flew from his hand, pinning her arm to the beaten wall by her waist, blood already soaking her uniform as it digs into her wrist.
Damn. Make time then. "Hey, René, how's the wife? Still an android?!"
"How dare you? I am the Mad Thinker. The one true rival to Mr. Fantastic—" Blah blah blah, backstory stuff— ha, he just posed like that one statue from the Metropolitan. "—I will make greatness—" As he rambles on about evolution that would make even Darwin snore, she shimmies herself down the wall til she's sitting and sticks out her foot to reach for her bow, but he snaps the string with his heel.
"Not cool, dude! Clint gave me that!" Where the hell is Billy? Cassie? Elliot? Fuck it, she'll take Tommy right now.
"Woops." His foot ground deeper on the snapped string.
Plan D then. She tries to dislocate her wrist, but it gets harder to move it the more she wriggles.
"Resistance is futile, Ms. Bishop."
"Well, that's nice and all," She raises a middle finger with the spare hand that hasn't been pinned, jerking against the metal bracelet blatantly now, "But what are you really doing with your life? Dude, the clones aren't even that good. They look like something from the Mimic," Kate says, hoping his anger will make him hit her. Giving her a shot at throwing a punch, then choking him out with her legs.
"They were but the beginning, Kate Bishop. I knew you would be the first to arrive."
He yanks the bracelet off, the gaping wound closing as if it never happened. Yet the scar remains, and stings like a bee on her wrist. Freaky.
So she goes for the throat, but it's like she's a second too late every time as he dodges her with ease. Damn.
"I am merely testing the boundaries of human evolution. I want a vessel that would put the likes of Mr. Sinister to shame. Unfortunately your little friend, Billy, is far too unstable for the first sample I harvested. Mutants. I wish to control, not herald the end of the world, but you, my fine specimen. My little hunter—"
"I am going to create peak human evolution," Kate says, deepening her voice to mock him as she throws another jab, "Yes, yes, heard it all before. Is that the only ploy you guys have lately? You villains of the week are worse than Hollywood right now. Rerun after rerun." That makes his eye twitch. Good.
"—You'll thank me later. If it makes you feel any better, you can't stop what's already in motion."
She moves to take another step forward but her right leg suddenly feels like nothing and she falls onto one knee. Her chest feels tight; it's like she's at the top of Mt. Everest. She tries to suck in a deep breath, but nothing. She claws at her throat, but it's futile.
"A sedative, made it myself. So don't take this personally," He says with a click of tongue before hitting the back of her head, and she swears she can hear the crunch of her skull.
Warm.
She feels warm. That's all she can feel as she sees the blood drip down, making her shut her eyes to stop the burning in her eyes.
Great, another concussion, she thinks loosely before the world goes dark.
“Kate, hey, stop, stop, you’re hurting yourself.” She squints her eyes tight, the bright light of wherever she is makes her skull feel like it’s split in half. “You’re at Avengers Tower. You’re safe, it’s alright.”
It hurts, everything hurts.
“Excuse me, we need to put her back to sleep again,” a calm voice says.
“Aren’t you–” Stop talking. “–Supposed to not sleep–” Please shut up. “–So soon after?”
Fuzzy. The world feels fuzzy and warm again. Thank g-d.
"I can't get a read on either of them, it's like their minds are quiet…"
The fluorescent light sets her head aflame once more as she tries to open her eyes, and a cold, clammy hand presses against her forehead, hushing her as a weak whine escapes her throat. Blearily, she blinks and rubs at her face with tingling fingers, making sure she’s seeing right. But Kate is also sitting beside herself, all banged up but stitched together in one of the complimentary hospital chairs.
Gosh, this is going to be one hell of a recovery period. Hallucinating herself?
"Oh, good. You're awake again," Billy whispers, stumbling toward her, prying her hands away to intertwine them with his own as tears bubble in his eyes. Scared him pretty bad, didn't she? "I couldn't hear you, I thought you were brain dead, you dummy."
"What am I, Bella from Twilight?" Kate jokes gently, squeezing his hand.
Billy snorts at that. These painkillers are working overtime, damn.
Kate tries to shift to sit upright, hands curling tight around the white sheets as pain shoots through her; it feels like a horse kicked her in the chest, not overtime, just enough time. She grabs the IV and tugs, letting the blood run down her arm.
"You shouldn't. Kate," Billy chastises, and tries to make her sit back down, but she eyes him. She knows her limits. No pain, no gain.
“Bishop. Sit down.” Fury says harshly. Whoa, when did he get here?
She shoves her hands away from the prying robotics and pushes herself away from Billy and turns toward the real problem that's sitting at the end of her bed. "What happened, Fury?"
"You tell me," Fury says, staring at her like she was a ticking time bomb.
"It's going to be the same thing again, and we both know it. Sir." Her doppelganger says from where she was still sitting. Katherine, let's call her Katherine. Kate always hated when people called her by her full name, that’ll shut her up and make her go away like Edward. Yikes, she really is Bella from Twilight.
"Bzzzz zzz zzz!" Kate says, waving her hand in front of her face, annoyed, "Shut up, Skippy. My conscience is already loud on a good day, don't make my damn migraine worse than it already is."
"Head feels like it's on fire?" Katherine asks and puckers her lips with a tilt of her head, eyeing Kate like the cat that got the canary. Smug.
She knows Billy thinks she's crazy, given how many times he's heard her internal monologue, and Fury is well, Fury. He deals with crazy on a daily basis like nothing, so she rubs at her forehead, mean-mugging her Katherine. "Pounding. Hospital lights, feels like some is jamming metal nails directly into my eyes."
"How's your arm?"
"Stings still," Kate says, rubbing at the bandaged arm and pulling it close to her chest.
"Interesting…" Katherine says, running a thumb along her wrist.
"Dammit. Get Dr. Richards up here," Fury says resignedly.
"Right," Billy chirps, he leans over and grabs Kate's hand, "It'll all be okay." It sounds more like a question than a guarantee.
"Of course, you know I've never been the most stable, Billy, let me grapple with myself for a bit, yeah? Gives me good character." Kate sighs, not really being a great adult right now.
"Wait, consciousness? Oh, that's rich, you're me." She points at Kate, then at herself, "Not the other way around."
"Is there a damn echo in this room?" Fury says, glaring at Kate.
"About that—" Billy tries.
"I said, get Dr. Richards down here, Maximoff. That is an order."
Billy freezes before stumbling away, ignoring Kate's gaze and hastily apologizing before fleeing the room. Once the door shuts behind him, Fury turns to her and hovers by her bedside, looking down at her.
Oh, here comes the scolding. She thought she had outgrown these. "I don't want this to ever happen again. Do you understand?"
"What happened with Madame Masque wasn't intentional." Not. Fuck, her brain is mush, she didn't mean…ugh. Mad Thinker. Fury then glares at her, as if trying to be clear that this isn't some joke. Right, serious, she's an Avenger now.
But she can't help herself, so she throws a mock salute and says, "Clear as rain." Katherine turns away to hide her smile, but nods in agreement. That's rare.
That's when the sound of a magick snap rings through the room, and she turns to Billy with a brusque glare.
Concussion. AHH Concussion. Concussion!
"Got him!" Billy says excitedly, ignoring her, as Dr. Richards stumbles with a nauseous but pale face. She feels a little bad, you kind of only get used to magick after the first handful of teleports.
"Great, everyone who needs to know is here. I appreciate what you do, Bishop, you are somehow my least problematic Avenger." Oh, she's not trying hard enough, dang. "So don't take this personally. You are now considered compromised. We finally located René and, coincidentally, you two." Fury says as he wags a finger between Kate and the hallucination, and she feels her stomach drop into her ass at the implication. No. Nononono. "We don't know what happened, and I would really appreciate it if you'd tell me before going off the radar."
Kate tries to explain the blur, her concussion not helping in the slightest, and she feels the echo of terror from the flashes of running, getting separated from the group. Then the darkness. She remembers the pinch of pain and shows off her arm and the scar he had given her.
Fury lets out a deep breath of air once she's done. "I was afraid of that."
"Told ya.'"
Fury glares at, but consciousness doesn't feel right. Fake? Clone? Oh, she knows what she'll hate. Liz. No, Katherine. She had hated it when Susan called her Katherine when they were young. Felt like she was in trouble because only Mom ever called her that, when she was in deep shit, plus it's such a basic name. Like she was from Harlem, or worse. Staten Island.
"I can have you escorted out. Decide it here and now if I wanted to." Katherine throws her hands up in the air with a smile. It's a scared one. One that makes her nauseous at how familiar it is.
"My bad. The concussion probably isn't helping either of us, and it takes a second to get used to, but—" Katherine says before reaching out to touch Kate's wrist, tugging and mirroring them, "—How do you feel about being a clone, huh, other me?"
Kate yanks her hand away, then, glaring, mumbles, "I'm not the clone, Katherine."
She widens her eyes and looks at Fury for confirmation. "I'm not the clone, right?" But he doesn't nod or shake his head.
"Can't tell the difference from your reflection?" Oh, we have jokes now. However many g-ddamn years of being a stick in the mud, and now we have a sense of humor?
"This isn't funny, Fury."
"Happens here and there, doesn't make it any less annoying. Just be grateful it isn't someone mimicking you. Using your likeness to bring down governments worldwide."
She honestly wants that and not some doppelganger.
Katherine murmurs so low that only Kate can hear, rubbing at the stitch on her jaw to hide it from the others, "I didn't exactly want a clone either. Or sibling-thing, get that enough with Susan. I just got lucky waking up before you. Took the brunt of the questions and prodding, you're welcome."
Kate pulls away and tries to listen as Dr. Richards analyzes the chart, but his ramblings are borderline incoherent, circling around them all. About how human engineering has not been able to replicate memories until now. They are fickle, and he stretched his arm out to them both once he looked up at them. Science Mambo Jumbo. Nature vs. nurture. The Theseus paradox.
"English, dammit," Fury's exasperated.
Dr. Richards coughs into his fist and straightens his back. "I compared it to all shape-shifters on record, and off too, but they're physically indistinguishable. Congratulations on being the first pair of quantum clones."
Billy, however, isn't able to hide his grimace as he takes the tablet and the comparison of DNA, "So there is no 'real' ship of Theseus. They're twins?"
"Not twins, if they were, there would be some error with their DNA, 0.01 percent to be exact, but there is no error for them. I tried multiple times, but it always came back the same."
Fury then asks, "Memories?"
Dr. Richards takes the tablet and hands it to her, "For now, the same. They both said the exact same thing to you once they were awake. We'll have to wait til the concussion has passed. I can't exactly revive Plutarch, but maybe I can create a solution of the lesser evils. A serum that merges them."
"No. No way in hell." Kate and Katherine say in chorus, Gross, so fucking gross. She can feel the mesh of flesh and shuts her eyes tight at the thought. She'd become that blob child in the hall.
Dr. Richard says with a smile in an attempt to placate them, but it just makes Kate even more anxious, acting as if it were some form of anesthesia and not the death penalty. "It won't feel like dying if that's what you're worried about!"
How the hell would he know that! Well. Hold on. No, he's never died here, and he's forcing it onto her. Them? Whatever.
"Not helping," Billy says, glaring at Dr. Richards. Who just takes the tablet out of Kate's hand, unremorseful of his objectivity.
"I got eighteen doctorates from quantum physics to biochemistry. I've never been to med school, but I'm the best shot at solving this logic puzzle."
"Can I ask for literally any other doctor? Bedside manners leave a lot to offer with this one." Kate asks rhetorically; he was the smartest man in the world but showed no sense for reading the room.
"What I meant is that it will be nothing like Jeff Vandermeer's interpretation…hopefully. But we need to do additional questioning and interaction with her team. Test environmental aspects," Dr. Richards says, tapping away at the tablet, ignorant of the obvious queasiness on her face.
"No," she says, snapping at him. She's not involving the others more than she has to. That makes Dr. Richards' eyes go wide, and look to Fury for a guarantee.
Fury sighs. "I'd prefer to keep them out of this. And separated. Protocol, Reed."
"This is a scientific breakthrough, and I can't let this… become nothing, Nick."
Breakthrough. Test subject. She's just a lab rat to him, and fuck does it make her want to wring his neck.
"Entertain me then," Fury says it in a way that leaves no room for argument.
"You know this feels…"
"…like Blade Runner. Interlinked. Within cells—"
"—interlinked."
"Which one of us is going to live for four years only?"
[Please take this seriously.]
"Sorry."
[State your name for the record.]
"Kate Bishop." "Kate Bishop."
[Full name, Ms. Bishop.]
"Loud. Katherine Elizabeth Bishop."
"Loud, Katherine Elizabeth Bishop."
[Gender?]
"Guys. Can we please be serious about this? Female."
"Guys, can we please be serious about this? Female."
[What nickname did your father give you when you were young?]
"Easy, hotshot. After my first archery competition."
"Easy, hotshot. After my first archery competition."
[What was the date of your father's death?]
"...May 4th, 2012." "…May 4th, 2012."
[What is your favorite memory?]
"Can we end this already?"
[Memory. Ms. Bishop.]
"My eleventh birthday. I can still recall its taste, y'know. Amazing cake, coffee cake, because I wanted to look older."
[…]
"Yellow, anyone there?"
[That's all we have to ask for now.]
The questions didn't stop. Like they thought there was going to be some sorta gotcha! moment when they were dragged out of their shared cell. They separated them. Put them back together. Finger to their noses before bed, and they both crumpled, backs aching. It all ended the same. If the whole clone thing wasn't driving her insane, these examinations were sure to do her in.
She grows familiar with the hiss of the door as it seals shut, and being quarantined in a pale white room and stiff mattresses that feel like they came straight from military barracks. The same painful silence signified they were getting nowhere.
She eyes Katherine sitting there on her half of the room, with eyes shut tight as she leans against the wall on her mattress. Her hospital gown was clean and unwrinkled, but she sat stiff, like she didn't trust Kate enough to lie down. Hurtful, ouch.
So Kate breaks the silence and crawls from underneath her sheets and sits on her knees at the edge of Katherine's bed. "You can stop this. Just fess up. They are never going to stop as long as there are two of us."
"I was about to say the same thing about you," Katherine says, not even bothering to open her eyes.
Kate pushes her body forward and stands until her calves are pressed against the side of the bed, her shadow shrouding Katherine, who doesn't even flinch as Kate gets her face side to side with hers, cheeks nearly touching. "They already did body examination twice," Humiliating. "Personality questions that you would do for your fucking taxes." Embarrassing stuff, stuff that she didn't want S.W.O.R.D to have on file. "Aren't you sick of the prodding?"
It was. Violating.
Katherine just tilts her head to the side and raises an eyebrow. "Stole the words right out of my mouth."
Felt weird being so close to her. Like looking in a mirror but somehow…worse? No, not worse. Just painful, and as she's about to bite back, the door opens again, and they both sigh. Another test. Lovely.
Dr. Richards hovers as they exit, escorting them down the hall to the elevator, "We're getting nowhere."
"I could've told you that," they say in sync, then glare at each other.
"Yes, yes, anyways, go get dressed and head down to the compound at the earliest opportunity. Need to prove something." Smart men thinking they know best. Tale as old as time.
Dr. Richards then whistles for security as he stretches an arm to hold the press the button for the elevator, "Come along, then. Your concussion should be healed finally. Time to introduce some more— no, hmm, not controlled—variables."
They're allowed into Kate's compartment in the compound (finally), and it's weird how they reach for the same drawer, then the same jacket.
Kate just throws up her hands, she's too tired for this, and flounces onto the bed, the cool sheets making goosebumps rise along her back and arms.
"Thanks."
"Literally don't mention it."
Kate turns her head away to create the illusion of privacy. Watching herself in the body mirror in the corner of the room as Katherine gets ready. Has that scar on her back been that bad this entire time? Her back is hella defined, though. Hey, it pays to have a 50+ lb draw weight.
Katherine, however, pauses for a bit too long, fidgeting with the thumb glove that she fought tooth and nail for once they were out of quarantine from the staff of doctors.
"Stop fidgeting. At least so loud," Kate mumbles as she hears the jingle of metal from a belt against the metal buttons on her jeans. Taking delight in the pop in Katherine's knee, it never really went away after that cocky spar from her old college's bar. Dude deserved it.
Katherine hisses as she zips her pants shut. "Make me."
Guess that confirms just how annoying she can be. "Jesus, why are we like this?"
Katherine eyes the door and the security past it, but steps toward the bed, and leaning over, she jams a finger into Kate's chest, "You're the worst of me. You're the one who's angry about the serum."
She doesn't even know where to start with that one because it's from both ends of this fucked up deal, babe, and so she sits up shakily, leaning back on her arms as she hisses at Katherine, who has her back turned from Kate, "You are such a hypocrite…"
"I'm the hypocrite?" Katherine shouts, but it's muffled as she pulls a violet Uniqlo shirt down and over her head.
"No, you are more of a coward than anything," Kate says as she bumps Katherine from the drawer, who bumps into the corner of the dresser with a whine. That's what she gets for wearing two shirts. Looking like something out of the Hot Topic catalog, with a tacky black long sleeve underneath, that is just the cherry on top.
"At least I'm not angry all the time."
"..."
Katherine continues to taunt and says, "Huh, what's up, quippy? Why so silent?"
Kate can't help but laugh in recognition as she slams the drawer open, pulling out a light purple shirt and worn jeans. Tugging at the strings of the gown and letting it drop off her shoulders, and onto the floor. She'll get to it later. "Did you just quote Gilmore Girls at me?"
Katherine's face flushes. "G-d, you're so annoying."
"You're worse than Clint," Kate trades back.
"You are such a…brat." Yeah, that's something Clint would say. Probably has already said, not going to lie, and she's just blanking on it.
Kate can't help but smile wryly in realization. "You really are me. Huh."
That makes Katherine stumble, all flustered, incoherent gibberish spilling out of her mouth. Kate covers the grin on her face with her hand as she watches her fall apart.
"No need to be so tongue-tied, just callin' it like I see it," Kate says with a big grin as she takes the shades off the top dresser. Tying her hair into a ponytail with a flourish, "Good luck with that, huh, sweetheart?"
"Yeah, now you know why no one likes you enough to stay around. Not even yourself."
And ain't that a kick to the head?
She toes the floor as they wait for the team to get back; the two of them lounged on the couch, waiting to be presented, side by side. Then there's Rice, a cool security guard she'd recommended; he was a student she worked alongside while she trained Muay Thai. He'd gotten beefier since the last time they talked at the Gala event for New York's Fashion Week.
"Rice, which one of us do you think is the clone?" Kate asks, lowering her shades to give him a look.
"Rhysand, my man, it's a simple question," Katherine adds.
"I told you I hated it when you called me Rhysand," Rice says back to them, jaw clenching in annoyance but not moving an inch from his position.
"But I remembered it, so therefore, I am not the clone then, huh?"
Kate says, "But I also remembered it and respected it. Therefore, I am not the clone."
Rice just lets out a pathetic, "I don't get paid enough for this."
This is going swimmingly, she thinks. Animosity. They're sterile in their actions, like they're being set up to hate each other—not like they're really trying to be buddies in the first place, knowing how it'll end.
With one of them dead and forgotten. Bleak, blah, think about Lucky. FUCK. LUCKY.
Kate wants to just run, check on him, maybe pet his coat, and forget about the world for a minute. Katherine would probably trail right behind because...she's a thief in the night. Wanting out of spite to stay and bite at her ankle because she knows what it means to Kate.
Even though they try to have different outfits, both scream Kate. One has the thumb glove for their bow. The other has the shades. Indistinguishable down to their molecules.
So she starts to fidget with the sticker on her chest, trying to let her mind wander to a better place. Ignoring the fact that Dr. Richards thought himself a real comedian, he had slapped a "Hi, my name is" sticker on both of them before heading down. Giggling to himself over the Sharpie drawn 'Kate >:(' and giving Katherine 'Kate :)'. Like she's Bingus and bit someone's ass. She's allowed to be angry, dammit!
The elevator chime knocks her out of her drifting thoughts; the chatter sweeps through the room like a wave as the doors open to overlapping voices she's missed over the past couple of days.
"Hey, guys." They greet in synchrony.
Dr. Richards rolls his eyes as his arm hovers, outstretched to keep the elevator door open as everyone gets off, and they dwindle down into an uncomfortable hush hovering as a group in the common area.
"Here, decide amongst yourselves," Dr. Richard says, handing each of the Kates the syringe with a knowing look. The serum, but handing it to each of them? Why? Another test, another mind game, probably.
What is this? What has her life come to? A game of Eeny Meeny Minny Moe?
"These come with instructions?" Katherine asks as she twirls the syringe around her fingers, like it was some pen to fidget with.
"A simple one. Take it, or use it." Prisoner's dilemma, then. He lets out a huff of air as he hands them off to the others. Late nights. Unhappy wife. Son and daughter, waiting to see their dad for more than a simple visit. Seems to have worn him down to the bone… poor Stretchy Armstrong.
Cassie is the first to break the ice, letting out an unbelieving holler at them as she grabs them both by their arm. "Holy shit, you weren't kidding, Billy."
Dr. Richards stretched his hand and snapped it back into place. "We'll continue testing and the serum I just—" but it descends into a frantic hum as he walks away.
Katherine says, waving goodbye, "Tell the missus I said hi."
Kate, giggling as he grumbles, "Give her a kiss for me, ya' hear?"
"I will not miss either of you."
"Was this before or after the humiliation ritual of being prodded at like lab rats?" They ask together with a smile. First note of true camaraderie. Ew.
"Funny," He says with a deadpan face as the elevator shuts on him.
Tough crowd. Kate claps her hands together with a smile. "Anyways, I hope you guys haven't been slacking on training."
"Do you even have clearance to do that right now?" Billy asks.
Katherine steps forward, says, "I'll be doing hands-on training with you all today. You guys get a gauge of me, and if you don't trust me," and throws Billy a covered needle. "Kill me then."
"The best of the best made it for me solely, ain't I special?" She wonders if Peter was forced to see her like this. Clint…Poor grandpa. She didn't hear them over the speaker, though, so maybe there is a G-d out there. An angry G-d.
Katherine then turns to Kate. "Unless you'd like to train with everyone today?"
"I'll just watch for now."
"Okay, voyeur," Katherine says, wiggling her eyebrows up and down. Have her eyebrows always look like caterpillars? She really needs to get them threaded.
"Gross."
Katherine, without even missing a beat, as they walk side by side down the hall to the training sector, "Do you remember—"
"Shut up, if you know what's good for you."
Katherine purses her lips together, trying to keep a straight face, but giggles spill out of her. "I knew that would push you over the edge," and starts to walk backward, facing the group. "Well? You all up to it?"
Kamala cackles at them with a shake of her head and is the first one in the group to follow. As the rest of the group hesitantly falls in line like a flock of baby chicks, an array of aghast faces gives way to hidden smiles. Her favorite is Billy, looking at her like he wants the earth to swallow him whole.
It's truly an out-of-body experience seeing herself fight with Kamala in hand-to-hand. Madame Masque always leaned towards street fighting, but the way she mirrored her habits, grip reminiscent of her old Brazilian jiu-jitsu instructor, giving Kamala notes that she's been sitting on for months? Doesn't really ease the pit in her stomach, honestly makes it worse.
It's why when she spots Billy curled up, knees pressed to his chest at the edge of the mat, away from everyone else, she grabs two bottles of water from the fridge and plops one onto his head.
"I can hear you thinking. I think it's starting to create smoke," She muses as she lowers herself to his height and sits beside him.
Billy continues to fiddle with the syringe. She can't shake the terror of seeing it out in the open. That it's real, and inevitable. "Are you alright?"
He's just a kid. He's already been traumatized; she can save him from her own. Save. That's what she's here for. "I'm holding up."
"You're so…"
Don't say different. Don't. Please.
"…Quiet. Like you're on a different wavelength. All I'm getting is poor radio waves at best." She tried not to let them see all the nasty rituals that she let fester because of her life, and how it made her—this— a shit leader. If she was even considered the leader… she was older than them by, like, three years at most. Kamala was more promising for the position, considering she was taught by Captain Marvel and Cyclops. More understanding, less worn down.
Plus, Kate wasn't even that close with any of them. And that was a good thing, it meant they would do what she couldn't, Billy being the exception. He had snuck his way in after helping her mend her relationship with Clint post-Communion.
Katherine didn't really mean to give it to Billy. Maybe she did, though. He was the most intimate with being in the wrong body. That something feels fundamentally off. Or maybe she just wants to place the responsibility, the blame, on someone else for once.
"Static in the silence." Billy laughs at that and runs a hand through his hair before slapping it against the mat. The noises of sparring in the near distance made the quiet between them all the more stark.
"Gimme your hand," Billy says hastily, and Kate opens her palm and tries to hide the shake. But he just hands back the syringe to her.
Both are now in her possession, amazing, great.
"You'll know what to do. You always do." Like it was easy. Like she was the solution to all her problems. That maybe it'll be some wish fulfillment, to die by her own hands.
Kate tries to bury the thought, because dying sounds easy. Too easy. Fuck, she skipped out on too many therapy sessions to spiral over this sober. With a curt mumble to Billy, she pushed herself up and out of the room.
She's wholly unaware of how Katherine's gaze—kneeling as she ostensibly watches the others spar—never leaves Kate until the door slides shut. Sweat drips onto the mat and Katherine presses her forehead against it as if she were praying for forgiveness.
"Excuse me, just need some air," Katherine murmurs as a pang of pain hits her chest. Taps the mat for formalities' sake, and ignores the concerned gazes that burn into her back as she steps out.
"What was that for? Falling apart now? I knew it-" Katherine's tone is gleefully vicious as she steps into, her, their, bedroom. Only to come face to face with Kate, who's hugging a still sealed Pink Whitney bottle between her legs like a lifeline. Running her index finger against the top of the bottle contemplatively, she glances up to make eye contact with the mirror, eyeing Katherine's reflection as she sits in a desk chair.
"Do you remember Johnny?" It's an innocent question. But hell, is it a damning one.
Katherine yanks the bottle away. Meanie. That hurt. "Of course I do."
"Lowest of lows on the West Coast," Kate says sing-songly, hoping Katherine'll get the hint and give her some alone time.
"He wasn't that bad."
"Made us realize that we couldn't love. Not in the way that matters, of course. Ooh, or that one blonde guy from the gay bar that looked like Clint,"
"Tactless. Can't really account for taste. Remember Gwen? Kind of crazy, but in a way we liked,” Kate says haughtily as she reminisces, puts her face in her hands. "I don't even know what I'm saying, not like a dunderhead like you will ever understand."
"Then get to the point," Katherine says.
Kate feels peak Anthony Bridgerton season two level stress flow through her and hisses, "Stupid." She flicks Katherine’s forehead before lying down on the bed. The syringes digging into her ass. "You know why I ran. So just go back out there."
She reaches into her pocket and lays the serums on the bedside table underneath the lamp.
"You are unbearable, you know that?”
“Just let me do this then. In peace.” It’s her first time dying, let it be a kind one.
“Was this always your plan?” Katherine whispers as she cups Kate's face, almost as if pleading with her to stop. “Push my buttons? Push me away so it doesn’t hurt me.”
“You woke up first. You deserve to keep your body.” It’s a weak excuse at best. “I’m the worst of us, I guess. Insecure. Mad. Bitter. Tired.”
“You think I don’t feel that?” Katherine shouts as she starts to pace the room. “This is your persona too.”
“Good luck with it.”
“No.” Katherine laughs, crazed, “No, you don’t get to run away from this because it’s hard, because it hurts to look at yourself and see why everyone hates you. Why you can’t commit and have some fucking stability, and I'm like you enough to know this isn’t what you want. You don’t want to be alone, you don’t want to leave me alone because then it means there really is no one that will love us, not even ourselves.”
She’s pretty when she’s pissed.
“Are you even listening!”
“We’re hot when we’re mad.” Okay, maybe she’s finding out why people ever fucked her now. A parting realization in her last minutes of life. Why she got off when people confronted her. Wiggled their way into her life and her bed.
“Yeah well, doesn’t help with you staring at my ass.” Katherine spits with a flushed face.
“And back. We’re hot.”
“Shut up.”
Kate can't help the snicker, “You’re so easy to distract.” To tease.
"You're a deranged narcissist, you know."
"Takes one to know one," Kate says with a petulant whine, of course she’s attracted to herself. Her self-respect is just that bad. "How about fulfilling a fantasy of mine. Cross one off the bucket list, Katherine."
Kate grabs at Katherine’s hands, guiding them so they cup her face. Like an offering, like a fucked up parting gift: she leans forward and gives her a gentle kiss.
"Not really a fantasy, you just wondered if you're good in bed," Katherine says against her neck, raking her nails at the skin behind Kate's ears before tugging them harshly, "And don't call me Katherine. I hate that."
"Kat?" You are what you eat.
"For now," Kat says, pressing a knee between Kate's thighs. To be loved is to be known, and she's always been a sucker for foreplay. "We'll workshop it."
Letting Kat keep the pace, Kate can't help but savor the cruel comfort. As Kate yanks up her shirt, her hands are at Kate's sides, clawing, and the pain makes her grind against Kate's knee out of reflex.
"Jeans off now," Kate chokes out. And fuck is Kat a loyal lap dog, yanking at her belt, looking up at her for approval as she bites at the zipper. Almost getting her lip caught because of her excitement as she tugs the jeans off. She loves to show off.
"Good girl." Kate rasps, running a hand through Kat's hair.
"Do you feel like fingers tonight?" Kat asks, pausing for a second above her. Lying a hand between Kate's thighs but not touching her. Tease. Fucking asshole.
"Just your thumb if anything, nothing inside," Kate pleads as Kat gives her a fleeting kiss in agreement. "Lose the shirts too, or you'll overheat."
"I thought you liked licking the sweat off after, means you did a good job, sweetheart," Kat murmurs as she presses her left hand's nails along Kate's inner thigh, the other hand's thumb pressed against Kate's clit, rolling it back and forth.
"Then your pants, I just want your skin on mine," Kate says, and fuck does it sound pathetic and whiny. Like she was a spoiled, coddled child.
"So needy, you have my hand, shouldn't that be enough?" Not enough, never enough, she wants to forget. She wants to feel good. She wants to die good.
"Please," Kate begs until it's incoherent, pushing herself up only to be pushed back down, lying flat on her back. "I'll get you off before…before."
"Getting you off is getting me off," Kat says before flexing her knees and leaning back, sitting on her calves at the end of the bed. "That's all I need, Kate, and you're doing such a good job."
"I fuck, fuck off." Kate tries to bite down the moans as Kat kisses her thigh, nails digging into the sheets as Kat runs her tongue along Kate's cunt. She's a fucking tease, and it's biting her in the ass.
Lapping at her cunt with vigor, Kate can't help as she tugs at Kat's head, and digs her nails so deep it'll probably draw blood. Kat shifts to lazily sucking at her clit in retribution, and it makes Kate jolt, but she doesn't show any signs of stopping, even when Kate tugs her away. "Fuck. Oh g-d, fuck."
Little death. French term for an orgasm.
Well, post-orgasm, how fitting. Kate thinks through the haze as she eyes the syringe on the bedside table, and watches as Kat lodges it in her arm. The light blue fluid drains and fills her veins. Kat then gently pulls out and bites around the mark, licking at the blood, making Kate keen and whine, and burrows her face into Kat's chest.
Yeah, maybe Narcissus was onto something. She could drown herself in this ecstasy.
"We'll figure it out. We always do." Kat promises as she holds her tight.
It doesn't matter if she's real. She's replaceable.
There will always be another Hawkeye.
Rubbing at the scar on her wrist, she presses her thumb into the bruise from the bite mark around it from last night. Figuring it out together. What S.W.O.R.D. doesn't know doesn't hurt them. But she can't shake the feeling that she didn't fool S.W.O.R.D. in the slightest, but they let her do it. Why?
At the end of the day, they're military. There are ways to make people break, confess, or just replace you when you become obsolete. So why does it feel like she's missing half of herself without even having to go through it?
She makes an attempt to hide her migraine as she pushes the double doors open and just nods and bows her head as Fury goes on about the next mission in Europe somewhere, sitting down and half-listening, to everyone's shock as she walks in alone.
Fury, without missing a beat, says, "Great to see you back on the roster, Bishop."
Kate mockingly throws a salute, once again. "Happy to be back, sir."
Once the silence had settled and Fury finished his speech, he stepped out with a parting glance, then she was met with hugs and hands on her shoulder.
"Welcome back…?"
"Good to be back."
Hey…Katherine?
Kate, just Kate. Kat is probably still asleep.
The shades do wonders at hiding her curiosity as she tries to let him know she heard him, and tries again as he shoots her a bemused look.
Can you hear me, Major Tom?
They hold each other's gaze. It's not like having a twin, where they know your behavior as if it's second nature. But she knows that he hasn't had it easy, she knows, now, being trapped in a body that you know isn't yours, know that, despite everything, never going to be that person again, no matter what. Know it far too intimately. He shakes his head to the side, confirming one notion at least. The others are all in the dark.
"Nothing," Billy says, and leans on his arm, "Kind of freaky, but hey, cool power up."
Kate smiles teasingly. "Telepaths fear me. Women want me."
Elliot doesn't get the clue. "That's cool and all, but what happened with y'know…"
"Dr. Reed's serum worked," Kate answers bluntly.
The group frowns, some abashed, and Cassie even punches at Elliot's side. He rubs at the back of his neck.
"Honestly, it felt like I experienced ego death without the LSD. But hey, look at the bright side, I'm back!" Katherine says with a fake smile that works on all of them, and the room eases just a bit. "Just me, myself, and I."
She wonders whether they can spot the difference. Probably not. Probably never will.